


the color red

by livj707



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Goodbyes, Gunshot Wounds, Phone Calls & Telephones, Sad Ending, for this fic lets pretend nate and sam and sully got separated somehow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 14:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13720062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livj707/pseuds/livj707
Summary: Nate gets shot in Madagascar and calls Elena one last time.





	the color red

**Author's Note:**

> so i saw this au where one person gets injured to the point where they know they aren't going to survive, so they call the other person and have a normal conversation with them. this is my first fic so feedback is much appreciated!

Red.

Nate clutched his gun in one hand, the other clutching the gaping wound in his side, the one that poured blood with each passing second. He sat with his back against one of the tattered, broken Madagascar buildings, staring off the cliff at some field in the distance. He breathed in. Breathed out. Pulled his hand away.

His fingers came back red; bright, startling red, similar to the red he saw years ago in Tibet. That time, he was so sure his time was up, that he'd made one too many mistakes. The wound caused by Harry Flynn brought him closer to death than he'd ever been before. But he woke up, and he couldn't have been happier.

The red on his fingertips was almost identical to the red of Elena’s wounds, after the bomb exploded and nearly tore her life away with it. She was so close - he thought about that moment months, even years later, because she was _so close._ So close to not making it.

But again, she stood on shaky legs and recovered quickly than Nate had thought was possible. And she was alive. Scarred, but alive.

But - Nate thought, as he examined his wound, noticing another one on his other side - this red was different. He coughed slightly and tilted his head back. Blood soaked into his clothes and pooled in the green grass around him. It was a color that screamed _gone_ and _end_ and _too late_ louder than words ever could.

Limply he let go off his gun (the thing now disgusted him to look at) and sat up as best as possible. The sky was a mixture of reds and yellows and oranges, the sun at just the right position to be shining in his eyes. Nate looked down at his multiple gunshot wounds, the cuts and scrapes from endless explosions, the type of injuries that most would succumb to almost instantly.

He couldn't hear any shooting, and it both frightened and relaxed him in a strange way; if Sam and Sully weren't fighting, it meant they were safe, maybe looking for him at that point. And maybe, if Nate was lucky, they'd find him before death did and he'd be able to one day look back and be grateful for a second chance.

Maybe.

At the same time, if they were dead, Shoreline wouldn't have anything to shoot at. If that was the reason for the eerie silence, Nate didn't want to think about it.

He wondered how Elena would find out, if it'd be Sam or Sully who'd volunteer to deliver the news. He wondered if she'd be angry, if she'd resent him forever for leaving her and their shared life for a brother she didn't know existed. Maybe she'd feel betrayed, like he went against every promise he ever made when they both said their vows at the altar. The clear possibility of both scenarios was enough to make him break down, but he breathed in. Breathed out. Blinked away the slight dizziness that began to blur his vision.

Because the truth was, he wouldn't go home to see Elena. He could no more do that than he could stand and walk to the cluster of trees that stood a mere few yards away. It was unfathomable; it was impossible.

He felt another wave of dizziness, the edges of his vision becoming blackened like damaged film. He coughed into his sleeve, and there was that same color again: red like loss, like looking into a bright sunset and feeling the life drain out of you.

Red like no more time.

Using every muscle in his body that wasn't already in pain, Nate slowly and carefully pulled out his phone and flipped it open. He scrolled through his list of contacts, clicked on a name, tried to steady his breath between rings.

_Beep, beep…_

He anxiously waited for a reply.

_Beep, beep…_

He winced in pain, getting ready for the dreaded voicemail...

_Beep, beep…_

“Hey, you.”

Relief flooded his body, and Nate felt a love and longing so strong sweep through him that he almost burst out crying. But instead he smiled, readjusted his cell phone, and focused on the looming sun in the distance.

“Hey, honey. How are you?”

“I'm good,” Elena's casual voice drifted through the speaker. “Just finishing up one of the articles I've been working on.”

“Really? How's that going?”

“Honestly, pretty exhausting. But it should be done soon, and luckily we have editors. When I have free time I might finally get around to doing the dishes.”

He smiled softly. “Too bad I'm not there to play you for it.”

She laughed, and Nate’s heart swelled, with both joy and grief. “Seriously? You still think you'd have a chance?”

“You never know, ‘Lena.”

“Oh, please.” Elena shifted on the other end, and Nate heard her sigh. “So, yeah. It's been pretty quiet here. How are you guys doing? Malaysia treating you well?”

Nate hesitated for a moment, sickened with the idea of lying to her yet again. But it was somehow more jarring to think of distressing her further, not when he was minutes away from death. So he continued.

“Yeah, quiet here too. Malaysia is beautiful, though. I wish you were here to see it.”

“Really?” Elena said. “Well, you'll just have to send me pictures then.”

He smiled. “Will do.”

Nate breathed through a wave of pain that shot through his body, pain so intense and absolute that it was like it was all he was made of. But he kept talking, fear and sadness and unimaginable remorse coursing through his veins.

“So, how’re things in good ol’ New Orleans?”

“Well, Stephen and Lisa are doing that house renovation. You can imagine what that's like.”

It felt refreshing to have a normal conversation with her. It was as if everything was normal, like a few days would pass and he'd be able to see her again. Like the world hadn't ended already.

“So yeah, it's been a little hard to sleep,” Elena continued. “I'm managing, though. But I miss you.”

Her voice was softer towards the end of her sentence, the last three words accompanied by a small quiver. Nate shifted again, gritting his teeth in pain.

“Hey, it's okay,” he spoke softly. “I'll be home soon. And I'm ready to destroy you on your little TV-game thing.”

The joy returned to her voice, and Elena laughed, returning a smile to Nate’s face. “Yeah, in your dreams, Cowboy.”

“Like I said, you never know.”

“I _do_ know. I've seen a lot of bad gamers, but _wow,_ that term takes on a whole new meaning in Nathan Drake.”

Nate heard her laugh on the other line, and he knew she was only poking fun at him. He rubbed his wedding band with his thumb, trying to picture what it meant when he first slipped it on. It wasn't _this_ , surely: a lying husband nearly ten thousand miles away from his wife. He blinked away tears. Breathed in. Breathed out.

“Elena, I love you.”

There was a slight pause. “I love you too.”

Her voice was casual, and Nate shook his head slightly, though he knew she couldn't see her. He looked downwards and closed his eyes.

“No - _I love you_.” He spoke with an urgency he didn't know he had within him, drawing out each syllable like it would somehow give him the strength to go on. Nate felt each word and more, wishing he could explain in a single phone call what he was feeling. What he wish he could say to her. But one phone call wasn't enough. One million phone calls wasn't enough.

“Oh - Nate, I know.” There was a moment of silence, and he heard Elena stand up. “I do know.”

“I don't know if I tell you that enough…”

“Nate, I love and trust you more than anyone else. I know things haven't always been easy, but nothing will ever change that. Is something wrong?”

He sighed in exhaustion, blinking away tears.

“I know there's a lot we don't talk about,” Elena continued. “Tell you what - how about we talk more about this when you get home?”

Time was running out, and Nate let his hand fall from where it was pressed against his wound.

“I'd like that.”

Elena took a deep breath, and her voice was more relaxed when it returned. “So, when are you coming home?”

_Never._

“Just a few more days. I promise.”

“ _Good._ This silence is driving me crazy.” Elena sighed. “Alright, well I should finish up the article. Call me tomorrow?”

Nate nodded. Winced.

Inhaled. Exhaled.

“I will.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. So much.”

The line went dead, and Nate shakily shoved the phone back in his pocket. The world was significantly darker now, the brilliant sunset in the distance coming into focus then blurring into nothing again. Nate leaned his head back and focused on the sound of the wind rustling the trees behind him. It reminded him of everything he used to love about life.

He closed his eyes, hand wrapped around his ring on the other, thinking about pirate treasure and Henry Avery and adventures in lost cities and wondering how such things could _ever_ seem important. They weren't; certainly not more important than a faithful wife and loving brother and mentor who was ever closer to a father.

But it was too late, and Nate knew that.

So he closed his eyes and hoped, with every bit of strength he had left, that Elena would find some way to forgive him.

Some day.

 

_fin_


End file.
